Liberi Fatali
by Omega Devin
Summary: Finding out that Seraphim is merely human…no older than a child, at that…must have come as a surprise. However, there is one teeny-tiny little detail you should know about me. I'm the worse out of any of them."
1. Chapter One: Lights by Dusk

Author's Note: The Guyver and its concepts belong to Yoshiki Takaya.  Original characters and concepts belong to me. 

For the first-time readers, welcome.  Just a few things before you begin.  This story is based off the Bio Booster Armor Guyver manga rather than the anime or the OAV, but it also features elements from both live-action movies (remember the first one?  No one ever does).  This fanfiction takes place about eighteen years after some of the events that take place between books 16-20, but seeing as we don't know what happens beyond that, some events from the manga are left in, while others are removed to compensate for this story.  If you do not know the storyline of the Guyver manga, I highly recommend you visit Star's Guyver page and do a little research before beginning.  That way, you won't be completely lost when reading this.

Upon reading through Liberi Fatali again, I realized how desperately it needed to be edited, and some aspects altered to better fit the storyline for the later story.  Some of the stuff I wrote made no sense at all, even to myself.  So here it is; Liberi Fatali 2.0, new and improved, easier to read and enjoy, with new lemon-fresh scent.  Some scenes will be altered for new concepts, and keep a look out for new ideas and added part.  Some chapters will even be re-written completely.

Liberi Fatali 

Written by Kyheena (aka Omega WEAPON)

Chapter One: Razors 

By the time Fukamachi Fumio was finally let out of class, the sun had set low in the horizon, staining the sky a rich, deep poppy red and casting long black shadows along the ground.  He was in a good mood that day.  He had aced the algebra test that he was sure he was going to fail at (by his standards, that wasn't getting anything higher than a B+), and he actually got through the day without being tainted and teased from afar, which was a daily occurrence at most.  As annoying as it was, he had learned to put up with it over the years.  He had clean-up duty after school, but that was almost pleasurable; he had been teamed up with one of his loose-knit friends and they had actually be allowed to listen to the teacher's radio as they worked.  Now he was walking home at a brisk pace, whistling along the way, his laptop computer slung comfortably over his shoulder in its handsome carrying case.

Still, he had the feeling that the day had gone a little too perfect, a little too smoothly.  Something was going to happen.  And that "something" was sneaking up behind him that very instant.

With a smile, Fumio stopped walking, still keeping his back straight and continued to stare straight ahead.  "I thought you knew me better than to be sneaking about like that, Eijirou."  He said to nothing.  "Might as well come out so you don't look so much like a rat on the prowl."

"Think you're so fucking smart, don't you, Elf-boy?" Came the jeering voice of Eijirou Tokoi, a cocky and dull-witted junior whose sole purpose in life was to make Fumio's high school life as miserable as possible.  Unfortunately for him, did not seem to be working too well; he just came off as incredibly annoying.  Fumio never knew why he was always the target of the junior's circle of bullying.  Although he was of slender build, Fumio still stood head and shoulders taller than Eijirou.  His skills in Aikido and Kendo swordsmanship was almost a local legend.  And if that was not enough, there was still the little matter of who his parents were…  But he did not need to run for his parent's help every time Eijirou decided to give him a hard time, nor use them as means of intimidation.  He was more than capable of taking care of himself, in both his skills as a martial artist, as well as other…well…_special_ abilities that were, for the time being, unknown by almost everyone else.  

This evening, Eijirou was not alone.  By the time Fumio turned around, he saw that Eijirou was flanked by four other boys, all about the same size and wit as their leader.  If intimidation was their means of attack, it had no effect.  Fumio only gave a small smile, his posture still held tall and unwavering.  "I'm not saying I'm smarter than anyone, but I do have to say that I pride myself in not being out-witted by a brick."

He did not expect for Eijirou to catch that remark, and by the blank look on the older boy's face, he had succeeded at it.  Fumio was in too good of a mood to be getting into a strife of any kind.  Instead of coming up with some sort of comeback, Eijirou only drew himself up again, meeting Fumio in the eye.  "That's quite a nice little laptop you got there, Elf.  Tell you what, let's make a deal; you hand over your little toy and I might go easy on you today.  I don't appreciate looking like a dumb-ass to you when taking a test."  Step two of Eijirou's means of getting under Fumio's skin.  He'd been after his laptop for the better part of two years now.

"Hey Eijirou, I have a great idea.  How about…no?"

Rage flashed across Eijirou's face.  If there was one thing he hated more than anything else in the world, it was when people did not do what he said.  On top of everything else that he was grudging Fumio for, that only made everything come crashing down.  "Okay, that's it.  You are _dead,_ Elf-boy!"  With that, Eijirou charged at Fumio with all he had.  Fumio was expecting this, and was by no means alarmed.  

                Eijirou aimed for a well-placed blow to Fumio's face, but the taller boy saw the attack long before it ever was delivered.  The bully lunged, moving in for the strike, but it never came.  Fumio had tilted his head back ever so slightly so the older boy's last finger missed his face by a mere inch, causing Eijirou to overbalance and fall right into Fumio's upraised knee.  With a loud grunt of pain, all the wind in Eijirou's body was forced out of him in a rush, stars flashing before his eyes and he fell onto the ground, doubled up from the blow he had received to his middle.

"All right."  Fumio said, turning to the other members of Eijirou's gang.  "Who's next?"

For a few seconds, the remaining boys only stared at Fumio, slack-jawed and eyes bulging.  Apparently they have never seen Fumio fight before despite the stories and the rumors of how quickly he took down anyone who threatened him.  But seeing their leader gasping and wheezing on the ground seemed to give them, stupidly enough, courage.  "Y-you're gonna get it, you fucking Elf!"  One of the boys said, and taking it as a sort of cue, charged the much calmer boy.

Fumio sighed.  He really did not want to put up with any of this today, but now it did not look as if he had a choice.  "Very well…" he said softly, and tossed his laptop into the air before rushing in to meet his attackers.

What occurred next happened so fast that if anyone had been watching, it looked as if the fight had happened in fast motion with the strength and chaotic grace of a whirlwind.  By the time Fumio's laptop fell back down to earth, he gracefully caught it in his hand by the leather handle and slung it back over his shoulder.  All of the attacking boys were unconscious, lying in formless heaps on the ground.  Unconscious as they were, though, there was not so much as a scratch on any of them.  "Amateurs." Fumio snorted at the lifeless forms.  "When will the lot of you learn…"

He was never able to finish his sentence; something was coming up behind him, and fast.  Without turning around, he already knew that Eijirou was back on his feet and coming back for a second round.  Fumio glared over his shoulder, and sure enough, the older high school boy was almost on top of him, this time brandishing an old but very solid-looking pipe in his hand.  By the look in his eye, Eijirou very well meant to smash Fumio's head in.

Fumio ground his teeth, his violet eyes narrowing dangerously for the first time that day.  "I warned you, Eijirou!  Don't mess with me!"  Fumio spun around on his heel with a graceful, fluid motion that looked impossible for a mere mortal to pull off, arm outstretched and hand flat, ready to take the pipe out of his attacker's hand and knock the living daylights out of Eijirou at the same time.

Neither one happened.

When Fumio brought his hand around, something bright and blue blazed from his fingertips, like a very bright spark of light, thinner than paper and quicker than anything he had seen before, and flew straight at Eijirou.  "Yow!" The boy cried in alarm, ducking his head as the laser of blue light flew at him.  It hit the pipe and to Fumio's amazement, cut it cleanly in half.  He had seen incisions made by diamond blades before, but this was far more perfect than anything one of those blades could have made.  And it did not stop at the pipe, either.  It flew on, quick as lightning, and made the same beautiful and flawless cut through the trunk of a tree, through the entire length of a dumpster, and half-way into the wall of the building behind it before it finally disappeared.

Fumio and Eijirou stared at the destruction caused by that light, whatever it was.  The top half of the tree was laying in the street, and the top of the dumpster had fallen to the ground as well, spilling its contents all over the place.  Papers, glass bottles, aluminum cans, and even larger pieces of debris like old furniture and boxes had been cut as neatly as everything else had.  The bricks of the building looked to have one black line painted onto them, but the line was too perfect, the incision too fine to be made by any type of blade.

The two boys looked back at each other.  Fear flooded Eijirou's face, replacing the rage, and he dropped the half pipe he was holding.  The others boys had awakened as well, and they all looked as terrified as their leader; they had seen the strange occurrence too.  Then they were on their feet, on the heels of Eijirou as they ran away frantically the way they had come.  They were not completely afraid though; Fumio still heard the calls from their retreating backs.

"Freak!"

All traces of his good mood vanished like smoke.  The strange light that had flashed from his fingers had replaced all other concerns he might have had until that point.  What was it?  Would Eijirou and the others tell others about what had happened?.

More importantly, what was he going to tell his parents?

A black cloud hung over Fumio's head as he made his way back home, dragging his feet, eyes cast to the ground.  True, Fumio had known his entire life that he was different from everyone else, he just never knew _why or _how_ he was so abnormal.  There was a good chance that the story of what had happened today would be circulating around the entire student body by lunch tomorrow, complete with Eijirou's point of view of how Fumio tried to take his head off._

If he had not moved, it probably would have, considering how easily it cut through medal, wood and solid stone.

A pity.

Before he knew it, Fumio was standing outside the wrought iron gate of his home, looking up into the windows, their curtains drawn to keep out the afternoon sun.  He drew a deep breath, running a hand through his black hair, trying to compose himself.  It would not do him any good if he came in looking like a mess, especially if his mother was right there.  She always knew when he was harassed at school, like some sort of odd sixth sense natural in all mothers, and would continue to probe at him until she knew all the details.  And no matter how much he tried to make it look as if nothing was wrong, she always found out anyway.  Most of the time, her other sources came from a call from the principle's office.  With another deep breath, Fumio opened the gate and walked solemnly to the front door.

Lucky for him, his mom was not in the front room when he cautiously poked his head in.  Heaving a silent sigh of relief, he slipped into the entrance, slipping out of his shoes and closing the door with as quietly as possible.

Fumio almost could not believe his luck when he made it up the stairs – especially the one that squeaked like a wounded mouse when any pressure was put on it – and into his room completely undetected.  Once he was in his room and the door safely closed behind him, he released the breath he was not aware he had been holding.  Of course, being able to sneak into the house was no victory.  He had a habit of always greeting his mother when he first got home, and a break of that tradition would have her worrying and looking for him in no time.  She always seemed to be worried about him when he did not say hello to her when he came home from school… Yet, in the world they lived in, that was understandable.  But right now, he needed the short amount of time that he had to collect himself, to cover up any evidence of today's squeamish on the way home.

With a sigh, Fumio lay his laptop on his desk and crossed his room to lay down on his bed, but ended up stopping in front of the mirror instead.

                There were many days when he would look at himself in the mirror without so much as a second thought, but something about today's events made him think everything over.

At first glance, Fumio looked like a normal, sixteen-year-old high school sophomore, tall for is age with longish black hair that nearly touched his shoulders and not too bad looking in the face.  On closer inspection, he was anything but normal.  For one, he had pointed ears; that was where Eijirou's favorite insult came from.  Then there were the markings on his face.  When you first looked at them, the looked like tattoos, but what ever ink was used was too even, the lines too perfect, and the color never faded.  He was not born with them, but they just faded into existence when he was thirteen; to small triangles on the outside corners of each eye, the top points directed towards his temples.  Even more striking was the mark on his forehead, which looked like four teardrops connected at their points to form what appeared to be an upside-down cross.  He had similar tattoo-like markings on his hands two; two stripes on each that started under his pinky fingers and wrapped around to the underside of his wrists. 

But the most startling feature about Fumio was his eyes.  They were bright violet, and seemed to glow with their own internal light.

Not exactly what he'd call "normal".

Sighing again, Fumio completed his journey to his bed and fell down onto the soft covers, face first. For the time being, he just lay there.  After what seemed like hours he finally rolled over, staring up at the ceiling, deep in thought.  The silence of the room pressed down around him, as heavy as the thoughts that circulated through his head.  He needed something to quiet those thoughts and keep him from spiraling into the depression that he was already leaning dangerously close to.

He turned his head on his pillow, looking at the stereo that was sitting on his desk among the pile of papers and schoolbooks.  What happened next would surely scare the hell out of anyone who was…  well… anyone.  The pair of headphones that had been set on top of one of the speaker was suddenly lifted into their air, as if an invisible hand had picked them up, the cord unraveling itself before plugging into the headphone outlet of the system.  Silently, the headphones floated over to Fumio's bed where they fit themselves perfectly on his head.  At the same time, CD cases scattered on his desk were re-arranging themselves until one finally opened, the disk removing from the tray and hanging in mid-air as the lid of the CD player opened, ejected the old CD back into its proper case, and accepted the new one.  The stereo switched on, the volume and equalizers set themselves appropriately, and the music began to play softly through Fumio's headset.  Beethoven's Fifth Movement; he needed time to think, and music to assist in that process.

This was the other feature about Fumio that was far from normal.

Ever since he was little, he had the ability to move objects with his mind.  He knew that telekinesis was rare, but the condition in which he had it was –  if the power were considered "normal" –  way beyond the norm.  All the stories he ever heard about the power had said that besides being extremely rare, the majority of the cases were extremely weak.  The users were barely able to move a pencil without coming down with one hell of a migraine afterwards.  Fumio never experienced those sort of side effects, and he could certainly do more than move a pencil.

As a child Fumio did not have too many friends, but it did not bothered him.  In fact, it never bothered him, simply because he never had the need for any.  Like any little boy, he would to play hours on end with plastic figures of toy soldiers, or building blocks that could be used to create towering skyscrapers.  It was _how_ he played with them that was so extraordinary.  While he played as his favorite "good guy" figures, the "bad guy" figures would always move on their own, advancing against the rebelling forces with Fumio as their commander.  Sometimes full-scale battles would break out between them, and Fumio would sit on the couch, watching the whole thing, the battle reenacted as he saw it in his mind.  

Later he went on to manipulating heavier objects.  It started out with suspending dishes in mid-air to drip-dry as he washed the rest; that always scared his mother.  Then he went onto moving furniture or other such objects out of the way when he was doing other chores.  There were times when he could get all the furniture in the front room to levitate a few feet off the ground while he vacuumed the carpet, even when he quickly learned to not do that when his parents were home.  When he was seven he even lifted his uncle a good five feet off the ground by accident, and his uncle was not exactly what you would call a small man.

That still was not the end to Fumio's amazing feats.  While walking home from school when he was ten, he spotted two men mugging an old lady across the street.  When he was sure no one was looking, he reached out with his mind and seized both of the men by the backs of their shirts.  It had looked as if the hand of an invisible giant had come to her rescue, lifting the two muggers clean off their feet and smashing them together with a sickening crunch.  While they lay unconscious on the ground, Fumio softened his power to poke around in their pockets and remove any stolen articles they might have after the purse was returned to the old lady.  The stolen objects and the two hog-tied muggers appeared at the front of the police station later that day, courtesy of an anonymous stranger.  And when he was thirteen, he had stopped a car speeding down the street, lifting it up off the pavement and placing it back down further down the road, at the next stop sign to stop it from hitting a child whose ball rolled out into the street.

Of course, his parents were well aware of Fumio's "gift", but they still discouraged him to use it in public.  That he could understand even at a young age, but that was no reason to say that he could not have a bit of fun with it every once in a while.  Most of it included getting back Eijirou for all the misery he caused to Fumio throughout his years of high school.  There was always the weekly prank of Eijirou and his group slipping in a well-placed item of cafeteria food on the floor, or dumping a scoop of chalk dust into his hair.  Luckily, he was too dull witted to trace it back to Fumio, nor did he have the evidence to back it up.  Fumio's sweetest form of revenge was the day he turned a toilet in the boy's bathroom into a bedey when Eijirou had to use it.  The memory of the incident still brought tears of laughter to his eyes whenever it was mentioned.

But what happened today…was something that had never happened before.  Fumio lifted a hand from under his head and stared at it, studying the stripes that wrapped around his wrist more closely than he ever did before.  He closed his fingers, looking them over.  Nothing seemed out of place on them; there were no visible marks, and there had been no pain, but that blue light that cut through practically anything had seen had come from these same fingers.  Frowning, Fumio sat up on his bed, removing his headphones, thinking.  Fingers still together, he made a swiping motion with his fingers, his arm making a wide, graceful half-arch.

Nothing.

He did it again.  Still nothing.

His frown deepening, Fumio thought back to earlier that day when Eijirou attacked him.  He thought of the murderous rage in those dull eyes, the swinging steel pipe, and sheer desire wanting to beat the living daylight out of him just because he was different.  His violet eyes narrowed as he made the motion for a third time.  This time, in a blinding flash of blue light, an electric blue razor flew from his fingers and struck a pot holding a fern sitting on the corner of his desk.  The razor cut through the pot as if it was made of paper, made of water, and the fern toppled to the ground, the pot and roots split perfectly in half, black dirt scattered all over Fumio's clean rug.

"Oh, shit!" He cursed, perhaps a little louder than he meant to.  He clasped a hand over his mouth and looked over at the door.  It was no use, though.  The fern had make an awfully loud crash when it fell.  Trying to keep from panicking, Fumio kicked the sliced pot under his bed.  He did not care if his parents saw the dirt; it was the cleanly severed pot that would draw their attention.

Sure enough, within moments, he heard the all-too-familiar sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and a knock on his door a few seconds later.

"Fumio?"

Fumio nearly heaved a sigh in relief; it was his dad.  At lease he would not freak out over a little split dirt.  "Yeah?  Come in."

The doorknob turned and Fumio's father, Fukamachi Sho, walked into the room.  Sho was a handsome man in his late thirties, but one would never guess his age by looking at him. All of Fumio's acquaintances at school had a hard time believing that he was not younger than twenty-five.  "You all right, son?  We heard a…oh, well I guess that would explain it."  His eyebrows rose in an amused fashion when he took in the ruined fern.

"Yeah…little accident.  Sorry 'bout that, I'll clean it up."  

"It's alright, don't jump up..."  His sentence trailed off as the dirt began to lift from the carpet, condensing into a black ball until every speck of soil had been collected into it.  "Well, I guess that takes care of that.  We didn't see you after school.  Are you feeling alright?  You look beat."

"I…" Fumio's plan of collecting himself before going downstairs had failed miserably.  He probably looked worse now than he did after the fight.  Finally he sighed and sat back down on his bed as the ball of dirt deposited itself in a wastebasket under his desk.  "Yeah Dad, I'm fine.  We just had that big algebra test today, so I'm a little worn out from that."  He forced a smile, but he knew that he father suspected other wise.  Fumio was never exhausted from such a trifle manner as a test.

"Okay, if you say.  Your mom's almost has dinner ready.  Will you be down?"

"Yeah, I'll be down in a few minutes."

Sho smiled, pat his son on the shoulder before leaving the room.  Once he was gone, Fumio let his smile drop.  Just when he thought he had things under his control, he always lost it again.  With a final sigh, he picked up the fern  from his floor and set it on a few sheets of scrap paper.  He would re-plant it in the yard after dinner.

Fumio hardly paid attention during dinner.  His mind was still upstairs and in the ally way where the fight had taken place.  By the time his mother asked him for a third time how he did on his algebra test, he finally heard enough of the question to answer.  "Huh?"  He finally tore his gaze away from the mashed potatoes, which had been swirled into spiraling patterns on his plate.  "Oh…uh, fine.  Got a ninety-eight percent on it, so that's not bad, huh?"  Still, his parents did not look comfortable with his prolonged silence and blank gaze.

His mother, Mizuki, looked even more worried about him than his father.  "Fumio…you're not being yourself tonight.  Do you have a fever?  You're so…out of it."  She even reached across the table to lay a cool hand on his forehead.  It was a ridiculous question, all three of them knew that it was not because he was sick.  All his life, Fumio' immune system was super-strong against any sort of illness-causing agent.

"I just have a lot on my mind, what with final exams coming up and.  Like I said, I had that algebra test today, and then there's still the chemistry exam tomorrow and debate in language class on Friday… I have a lot to prepare for this week, and it's been wearing down on me."  By the look on their faces, he knew they were itching to ask him if Eijirou had been bothering him.  Since they knew that Fumio wouldn't have told them if the bully was picking on him even if they did ask, they held their tongues.  

Instead of pressing further, his mother only smiled gently at him and said, "You have been working very hard this week, so why don't you go upstairs and rest?  Your father and I will take care of the leftovers."  She looked around the table.  "Not that that will be much of a problem."  Fumio almost smiled; the day's earlier events certainly had not effected his appetite.  Even when he was staring off into space, he had still managed to clear away three helping by himself, and even that that was still considered a light meal for him.

"Are you sure?  I feel well enough to help."

"You mom's right, you need to relax, especially with that debate coming up.  We've been practicing for it all week, and I don't want you to loose to exhaustion.  However, you can call your cousin; it's her birthday today.  But do it soon.  Her parents are taking her out to dinner." 

Fumio nearly slapped himself in the forehead.  Naru's birthday.  He had not forgotten about it – he had kept reminding himself throughout the course of the day that he was supposed to call her tonight – but recent events had overruled that thought.  "Yeah; I'll do that now."  Fumio hastily made his way back up to his room and picked up his cell phone that was sitting on his desk, dialed her house number, and returned to his bed while the phone rang on the other side.  For a moment he was afraid that they had already left, but smiled when someone on the other line picked up.

Naru was two years younger than he was, and he felt it was a crime that he did not see her more than he should, especially since she and her family lived just across town.  His uncle was his mother's brother, and he, his wife Natsuki, and their two children, Naru and Sachi, were the only other family that Fumio knew he had.  But that did not matter; he and Naru had been very close while growing up.  Even though they lived across town, she and Sachi was almost like little sisters to him. 

It was his uncle who answered.  "Hello, Segawa residence."

Fumio reached up with his free hand and pinched his nose shut to make his voice sound different.  "This is a special collect call from your favorite nephew, will you accept the charges?"

Over the line, Tetsuro laughed.  Fumio always had a different greeting when he called their home, and no two were ever alike.  "Hello, Fumio.  How are you?"

Fumio's smile grew as he unplugged his nose.  "Hello Uncle Tetsuro.  I'm doing alright, I'm just calling to wish Naru a happy birthday.  Is she around?"

"Yes, let me go get her.  We were actually going to leave for dinner in a few moments."

"All right, I won't take long."

"Let me go find her."  There was silence on the line for a few moments, then the shuffling of someone picking the receiver back up.

"Hello?"

"Happy Birthday from your favorite cousin."

On the other line, Naru squealed  "Fumio-kun!  Thank you!"  Then she giggled.  "You're also my only cousin."

"Well, I certainly can't fool you any more, can I?  Guess you're getting too smart for me now that you're a whole year older.  How old are you now?  Ten?  Eleven?"

Again, Naru giggled.  "I'm fourteen today, silly."

Fumio mocked amazement.  "Wow, fourteen?  That's really something.  See, when you get to be my old age, you begin to forget stuff like that.  Enjoy it while you can."  Naru was laughing, and for the time being he forgot all about his problems from earlier that day.  "So, where are your parents taking you?"

"We're going to that really good Italian place in the city."

"Wow, that sounds good.  Are you doing anything special?"

"I'm having a party on Saturday with some of my friends from school."

"That sounds like fun.  It's been years since I had a birthday party."

"Do you want to come?" Naru piped up.

"Hmm…" Fumio was silent for a short while, making it seem as if he was really thinking about it.  In fact, he was; he had to be careful about when he was invited to big social gatherings, just in case something went wrong.  But he did want to see Naru again.  He had not seen his aunt, uncle or cousin since Christmas, which was around his own birthday as well.  "Well, sure, I guess so.  You do realize that this is going to cut into a very important night of watching scary movies, eating pizza and playing video games, don't you?  Besides, do you really want an old fart like me hanging out with a bunch of your friends?"

"You're so funny, Fumio." Naru giggled.  "Of course I want you to come.  Oh, and bring Aunt Mizuki and Uncle Sho with you, Mom and Daddy want to see them too."

"Consider it done."

"Yeay!" Naru cheered.  "I'm so happy you can come!  It starts at seven!  I have to go, we're going to go to dinner now.  Mommy says 'hi'."  

"Hi Aunt Natsuki." Fumio said, as if he was speaking to her directly.

"Bye, bye, Fumio!  I'll see you Saturday!"

"Good night, Naru." Fumio said, and hung up the phone.  

Once again, his good mood had returned to him.  Talking to his cousin always made him feel good, and he was happy that he was invited to her party.

But then his eyes fell on the plant that was still laying on his desk, and everything came rushing back to him.  He shook his head.  No.  He was not going to let something like that ruin this for him.  He was only sixteen; he did not need to be worrying about this kind of stuff right now.  Apparently it only happened when he was angry, and as long as his temper held, he would be all right.  Nothing to worry about.

Right?

**--------**

To Be Continued… 

------


	2. Chapter Two: Red and Black Waltz

**Author's Notes:** I'm not going to make excuses for this one.  The only thing I can say in my defense is not only do I loathe writing battle scenes, but I hate writing Agito just as much.  Getting inside that man's head can be a real pain in the ass.  But thanks to Jade Tatsu, I was able to drag myself through this new version of chapter two.  Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter Two: Red and Black Waltz**

Except for the few instruments powered by the emergency generators, the laboratory was dark.  Except for the sounds of explosions and chaos above, the laboratory was silent.  And amidst the darkness and the silence and the scattered scientists bound and gagged on the ground, only one figure was on the move.

It was a small figure, both short in height and petite in body, but the image was betrayed by the long, black hooded cowl wrapped around its entire being.  It moved easily among the computers and monitors, occasionally stopping at one to check the latest records before moving on.  

Unlike most other raids of a Chronos base, this was not a mission of mass sabotage, but rather a mission of rescue and the piracy of lost information.  Not more than a week ago the rebellion force known as Zeus' Thunderbolt suffered its greatest casualty in a long while.  It had started as a heist of a routine shipment to a local Chronos base, but the United Freeworld Forces had still hired the Thunderbolts to infiltrate the shipment for any leads to any new tricks Chronos might have had up their sleeves.  New and unusual items within the shipment were their best source of information, other than getting into the labs directly, that is… But that was beside the point.  Chronos had been ready for them that time, and the counterattack they provided was enough to kill two Libertus, severely wound three others, and have two taken into Chronos custody.  The latter proved to be the worse result of the botched raid.  For the last eighteen years, the Thunderbolts did a good job to keep Chronos from learning the secrets of the process that went into developing the Libertus, but taking even one alive would give Dr. Hamilcar Balkus enough information to crack their code…

It was not information they could allow to get out.  It has been the only thing that had given them enough edge in the war for the last twenty or so years to actually keep up with the intense battles against Chronos without solely relying on the Guyvers.  They had to get the information back.

And she, Seraphim, the smallest and quickest of the Thunderbolts, was the only one efficient enough to get in and get out of the labs undetected, regardless of the moral issues attached to her involvement in the war.

Let people thing what they thought about her fighting along with the Libertus, at the side of Guyver III, aka Gigantic Dark, and the Zoalord Griselda.  This was her fight just as much as it was theirs.

Of course, up until now she had been off on the side-lines, involved with the battle but never actually _in_ the battle, observing from a safe distance or lurking in the darkest shadows until she was needed at the opportune moment, as Gigantic Dark called it.  She was sure that Balkus knew of her – nothing escaped his mind, which was surprising for how old he was – but she was sure that no one from Chronos had never actually _seen_ her before, only the trail of death and destruction she left in her wake.  Chances were they would have never guessed that someone of her age, size and status could ever be the cause of such disorder and chaos, but that was only half of what she could do; at least within closed walls.  It would never compare with the damage she was known to cause in a wide open space...

The chaos that reined above caused enough confusion and commotion that the hallways and corridors were practically empty except for a few stragglers…but they were easy enough to take care of.  A well-placed distraction from her "partners" was enough to drive most of the scientists from the labs in fear of the opposing force closing in, and when the main power grid shorted out, it made getting around undetected that much more easier.  Still, chances could not be taken.  She had her "guards", of sorts, at all the entrances of the lab to let her know about any unwanted intruders.  All of the cameras had been eliminated, and the bound and gagged scientists were too helpless to raise much of an alarm.

It was of the utmost importance that they got back the information that was stolen from them.  If Balkus found a way to use it against them – and he would, the goat-faced bastard – then the Thunderbolts, much less the UFF, would never be able to come up with a way to counter that potentially dangerous blow before it did some major crippling damage to their side.

Well…there was a way, but it was, in a sense, a very bad idea unless they were left with no other choice.

Somewhere to her right, an intercom crackled.  She was just barely able to make out the broken words amongst the waves of static.  "Come…n Centra…lab…t in."

The figure cast a quick glance at the intercom speaker and receiver, but turned her attention back to the monitor she was currently standing at.

_You're not going to answer that?_ A raspy Voice inside of her head said.

"The intercoms in the labs are always equipped with voice scanners."  The cloaked figure said to open air in a determined female voice.  "They would know that something's wrong and send a squad down.  We can deal with a few of them snooping around, but we can't afford dealing with a whole pack.  Not enough time."  Her fingers flew across the keyboard, rapidly flipping through the digital data files until she found what she was looking for.

_Open//file//aquired_file//Libertus_ana.zfd_

Bingo.

Pulse pounding, the hooded figure double-clicked the file.  The screen displayed a wire-frame model of the newest Libertus type, rotating 365 degrees with its data displayed next to it.  A lot of figures still had data missing.  The girl sighed in relief.  Good.  It meant that the data had not been send to the Arizona base yet.  A small pop-up box towards the bottom of the screen almost proved her otherwise.

_Status: Incomplete_

_Data Analysis: 96.3% complete_

_Time Remaining: 5 minutes, 33.7 seconds_

In her hear, a tiny microphone crackled as a message came through her radio head-set that kept her connected to the surveillance team above.  "_How are we doing, Seraphim?"_ A male voice asked through the microphone on the other side.

"Almost too close."  The girl responded.  "I just need to get rid of the file."  Before the man on the other side could answer, she already began to play around with the file options until she found what she was searching for.

_Delete file?_

She moved the cursor over the option, _yes_.

_Sorry, Balkus_.  The girl thought with a wicked grin.  _No new information for you today_._  Still, something seems wrong… It should not have taken two weeks to only get 96% of a sample completed_…

Her thoughts were reflected by the tone of voice on the other side of her microphone headset.  "_You mean it wasn't complete?_"

The bottom of her stomach began sinking.  "No.  It was only 96% done."

The answer she received was not reassuring.  "_Shit._"

"What?"  Seraphim demanded, suddenly catching onto the notion that her little mission was not what it was three minutes ago.  "What is it, Herald?"

"_It's a trap Seraphim.  This was all set up to lure you out of the shadows.  Get out of there_!"

Seraphim ripped her attention away from the computer screen, all of her senses suddenly a flare and sharp as razor blades, seeking out any possible dangers that might be closing in around her.  Maybe they did not know she was there yet, maybe she could get out and back to the teleportation helicopters before they even knew she was there…

A wailing cry pierced through the silence of the lab, and the dark shadows became infused with red light as the sirens sounded throughout the base laboratories, catching Seraphim off guard and the voices inside her head snarl in rage and surprise, making the hair on the back of her neck rise like that of a spooked cat.

"_SECURITY BREECH!_" A voice boomed across the intercom speakers hooked up into the ceiling.  "_SECURITY BREECH!  UNITS TWO THROUGH FOUR ARE TO REPEAT TO THE MAIN LABS IMMEDIATELY!  STOP THE INTRUDERS AT ALL COSTS!"_

_I knew it!_ A deep voice snarled within her mind.  _I knew that this was a bad idea from the very beginning_…  

_Shut up, all of you!_  The figure snapped back at them, her eyes darting from door to door to make sure nothing burst in while she needed the time to think of her escape, but by then it was too late.  All of the doors leading to the lab were falling shut with deafening bangs all around her, cutting off all means of escape.  From their positions by the door, her comrades recoiled away, still unseen in the stealth she willed for them, and retreated back into the depths of her mind.  _Geyo, fly ahead!  Tell G.D. I'm on my way up, as soon as I…oh, shit._

There was one door still open that connected the lab to the hallways leading to the emergency elevators, but it could barely be seen by the monstrous form that was blocking her means of escape.  A zoanoid, and by the looks of him, it was not of a standard model.  A hyper zoanoid.  Shit.  They were ready for them.

She knew why they were after her.  Balkus had set this up, most likely, and he meant to take her alive.  Chronos only knew her as Seraphim, but she was becoming a growing thorn in Balkus' side for the past year, always just lurking in the shadows of battles, and somehow always playing a part to turn the favors of battle to the Thunderbolt's side.  Most likely they thought she was a new type of zoanoid, possibly a Lost Number of sorts, or some completely new creation altogether, but since she just always stayed just out of sight, Balkus would not be satisfied until he could see so for himself.  Maybe they thought it might was even be multiple subjects they were after, seeing that it was quite unlikely that one person could cause as much damage as she had allegedly done in the past.  But what could be more powerful than the Libertus, than Griselda or even Gigantic Dark himself, that Agito Makishima could keep on his side without the fear of that power turning on him?

"So…" The Zoanoid rasped as its voice warped its speech, stepping into the central lab and having to suck to avoid the doorframe.  "You are the one, are you?  The Seraphim that Balkus is in such a rut over."  It snorted, looking over the petite figure standing just over five feet tall, shrouded by the black cloak and concealed in shadows.  "Not much to look at, that's for sure."

Seraphim refused to move, but only stared back at the looming figure with determined eyes hidden by the hood of her cloak.  It was trying to intimidate her, as expected, but she felt no fear.  Granted, the creature standing before her was something that nightmares were made of.  Four rolling eyes set within a head pulled into a scaly snout and topped with crude curving horns.  Matted hair covered the thick, wide body, pin-cushioned with spines.  Thick hooves clicked menacingly on the ground as it stepped towards her.  Yes, a creation of nightmares.  

But not one of her nightmares.

"Are you not afraid?"  The zoanoid challenged.  "Not under the watchful eyes of your Libertus companions or the protection of Gigantic Dark or Griselda?  What good could it possibly do them to send a child into enemy territory?"

"Don't sound so sure of yourself."  Seraphim replied back.  Cool.  Collected.  Unafraid.  "Sending someone of such little experience would only be a hindrance to Gigantic Dark.  He would have no gain from sending a mere child to do the work of someone who can do the job more efficiently."  Seraphim began to walk away from the computer she was standing at, towards the door, but making a mindful half-circle path around the zoanoid, staying just out of reach.  Despite the wail of the sirens, light, almost playful tone of her voice sent a shiver through the zoanoid; she could see it.  And the way she moved, which a sense of grace and yet with an air that suggested there was something…slightly off-balance to her…was enough to let this monster know this was no ordinary child he was dealing with.

"I know what it is you were expecting to find here."  The cloaked figure continued, speaking as if the emergency sirens and lights were not in the same space as they.  "A Thunderbolt zoanoid, of sorts, perhaps a new model.  It couldn't have been Gigantic Dark or Griselda, seeing as this mission is not so important that it needed their personal attention.  But finding out that Seraphim is merely human…no older than a child, at that…must have come as a surprise.  However, there is one teeny-tiny little detail you should know about me."  She stopped, cocking her head upwards to stare the zoanoid strait in the eyes.  The flashing glare of the emergency lights flashed over her face, penetrating the deep shadows, reflecting off the blood-red irises that seemed to glow with their own internal light.

"Me?  I'm the worst out of all of them."

The zoanoid bellowed, a boisterous sound that echoed off the metal walls and made the whole lab reverberate before charging the small figure.  Seraphim stood her ground, regardless of the fact that this creature was ten times her size and was coming at her with the speed and force of a freight train.  Instead of running, or even making an effort to clear well out of the behemoth's way, Seraphim took one step to her right just as the monster charged past her, and summoned.

Something massive, something incredibly strong and yet incredibly invisible struck out at the hyper zoanoid.  A solid hand conjured of nothingness swung at the creature and caught it in what seemed to be an incredibly powerful left hook, knocking it clean off its feet and sending it hurtling through the air.  Fifty feet off the ground it was lifted and a hundred feet across the lab it was thrown into the far corner of the central lab as if it had been shot out of the canon of a tank, striking the concrete walls and making the entire base shake at the core.  The zoanoid slid down wall and onto the floor making hardly a sound, its heavy body making a very clear impression within the indented and cracked concrete, leaving a slick blood trail in its wake.

Sheiza_.  That had to hurt._  One of the Voices cringed in her mind.

"Most likely it did.  It's really too bad that they're always so confident of themselves when the battles first begin.  I almost feel bad when I have to kill them.  And I think we all own a nice round of applause for Aidan who made it all possible."

_Way to go big guy!_ A tiny, child-like Voice cheered, but the "big guy" seemed far from amused.

_I hate to a dead weight, Seraphim…_ Aidan began in his careful, deep Voice.  _But it would probably be a good idea to keep moving.  I doubt that was the only one they sent down, and Geyo's already flown ahead to alert Gigantic Dark that you are on the way out_.

Before she had a chance to agree, there was a small beep inside her ear.  _Speak of the devil_.  She clicked her headset back on.  "What is it, Herald?"

_"Any problems, Seraphim?  Where are you?"_

"Well, I won't lie to you.  They were definitely waiting for me, complete with noose in hand."  She cast a quick glance at the decomposing body of the hyper-zoanoid in the corner, trying very hard to ignore the stench rising from it.  "I'm still in the labs.  What about everyone else?"

_"As soon as G.D. found out it was a trap, he ordered a retreat.  Everyone's heading back to the teleports.  Better get back here ASAP; he's about ready to skin some of us if you're not here in five minutes, and Griselda's not doing any better._"  Seraphim almost smiled at the anxious tone in Herald's voice.  He was probably right about the Boss, so it was best she got out of there as soon as possible.

"Give me three."  She responded, and turned off the headset.

_Better move it, Seraphim._ A slightly concerned female Voice said.  _Here they come._

Seraphim cast a glance over her shoulder to see a hoard of massive black shadows of mutated humans crowding towards the main entrance of the central lab.  And she grinned, although it was more of a sneer than a smile.

Zoanoids of all shapes and sizes poured into the lab, the emergency lights creating a sort of strobe effect that made the Chronos troops appear to be advancing on her in short bursts.  Their low growls and unintelligible, guttural speech reverberated throughout the lab, making the instruments and computer monitors rumble across their tables.  Seraphim did not listen to what they were saying.  She was concentrating on clearing her mind, and conflicting silently with the Voices within her head.

_Let me at them.  I can blow through them with one shot_.  The hot, raspy Voice in her mind growled.

_Too risky._  Seraphim responded, and the hot Voice growled in reserved frustration.  _Not with all the flammable material in the area.  Besides, it would only delay the escape longer.  We can't just plow through, we wouldn't make it five steps without being swarmed.  This is going to take a little bit of… forceful persuasion, as Father so fondly calls it._

_And in the words of the others, the 'get-the-hell-out-of-my-way-if-you-want-to-keep-your-nads' approach?_  A dark silky Voice crooned.

_Exactly_.

_Sounds like fun_.  All of the Voices were suddenly intrigued, and allowed her to open her mind for full concentration.

As the zoanoids closed their circle in tighter around her, Seraphim slowly withdrew her hands from the sleeves of her cloak, revealing slender, pale hands marred with twin dark slashes that curled down around her wrists.  Before the zoanoids had a chance to react, she plunged her hands deep within the folds of her cloak.  There was a sudden hiss of something metallic, and in the flash of the red lights she unsheathed a wicked crescent-moon blade attached to a heavy steel chain.

The closest of the zoanoids took a step back, confused that someone was going to try to take them on with an actual weapon without any seen armor or transformation state or abilities.  "What are you trying to prove, girl?"  A near-by Gregol model growled.  "Are you really that crazy?"

Seraphim did not move from her defensive position, but a fiery-red aura, much more vibrant than the emergency lights, flared momentarily around her entire being.  "Do not…" She said in a very quiet, yet very chilling and oddly, very familiar tone of voice.  "Call me crazy."

The Gregol had no time to respond.  In fact, he did not have much time to do anything before his head was cut off from his body in one clean blow, knocking it clear across to the other side of the lab.  The other zoanoids only gawked in a very stupid, confused manner, trying to figure out what exactly what happened, until the flash of metal caught their eyes.  They followed it back to the crescent blade that was resting in Seraphim's upraised hand.  The metal was not quite so bright as it was now wet, dripping with blood so dark it was nearly black.

"What are you waiting for?"  Seraphim demanded to the mob.  "Who's next?"

They swarmed upon her like a pack of rabid rats, only to be cut down by the blade.  It seemed to hit all the vital spots that would ensure a one-hit kill, usually severing the jugular vein to let the zoanoids drown to death in their own blood, which took them down like flies.  And it was not so much the blade that outdid them as Seraphim's skill, and they quickly understood why Balkus wanted to know how much of a threat she would be to him.  She was dangerous.  Highly-skilled and clearly trained in the martial arts, she was dangerous as any of the Libertus.  Maybe she even rivaled Griselda, or Gigantic Dark himself, but only a true test of power would confirm or deny that…

_Seraphim,__ just go!_ The raspy Voice snarled, dangerously close to breaking her concentration.  _They're not going to stop coming, you just need to get out of here!  The others are waiting!_

He was right, and she knew it, but an escape that would be completely without risk would not be easy.  Physical attacks were effective, but could only take out about ten at a time in she was lucky, and for every one zoanoid  that fell, five more would be there to take its place.  Too dangerous for fire, and ice would only hinder her escape…  She needed to take them all down in one blow, so she would be given a clean shot at the exit…

Seraphim caught the blade as it came back to her, but this time she held it, sheathing it back at her side.  Once again the zoanoids paused to look at her curiously, questioning her actions, but it was only for a second before they fell upon her once again.

_Lucifel…it is time._

The red alarm lights suddenly dimmed, plunging the lab into near darkness, the din of the sirens reduced to a thin wail far off in the distance.  The zoanoids recoiled, if not only by a few inches, their courage waning as the lab was plunged into sudden darkness.  Then, there was a new movement.  Something rose up from behind the small figure of the girl, an indescribable figure that was black beyond black, rearing up tall and intimidating and towering over the heads of the tallest zoanoids.  Not a zoanoid; it could not have been.  There was no other troops of the Thunderbolts within the lab, and no way for them to have gotten in.  Four red eyes glared like hellfire in the darkness as the creature screamed, and tendrils of dark purple energy gathered around the long, sharp object protruding from above the creature's eyes.  The dark energy condensed into a ball that washed out the lab in black light, showing the zoanoids the silhouette of the creature that had come to Seraphim's aid.

A horse?

No, not a horse.  It could not have been.  Not with that massive, seven-foot horn growing from its head, the four mad, rolling red eyes, the four spindly wings…

It was the clearest image they could get of the beast before it unleashed its attack upon the attackers.  Dark energy washed over the masses of zoanoids, and in a chorus of guttural cries they dropped like flies, all clawing at their skulls in pain and agony.

The red emergency lights flared back to life, and the sirens continued to bellow, but all the zoanoids lay helpless and twitching upon the blood-soaked concrete floor of the central lab.  The apparition that had appeared behind Seraphim was no where to be seen.

_Now!_

With all the zoanoids down, Seraphim wasted no time in launching herself over the fallen bodies, taking a sharp left outside the lab and making for a clear shot right to the service elevators that would take her topside.  She had to move quickly, that was a given.  The darkness attack that was Lucifel's specialty might have been effective, but it would not last long with such a large numbers, and already the zoanoids were making motions to rise back to their feet.  She would not have time to do something like that again.

Seraphim flew down the hallways, skillfully jumping over the fallen bodies and debris with inhuman ease, the service elevators becoming closer with each passing step.  The doors had been blown clean off their hinges, but the cab was still intact.  If there was no other damage done to the shaft, then it meant the cables would still hold and be stable enough to carry her to the top, but they would be too slow.  She needed a way to climb twenty stories straight up, and fast.

Claws scraped against the hard stone floors, and guttural cries of rage echoed through the corridors.  Time to move.

Because of the shutdown of the main power grid, there was no power to run the elevators, and most likely there would be Chronos troops watching the stairs.  That meant unless she thought of another way out, she was as good as dead.  Seraphim entered the cab that was level to the laboratory floors, jumping up and forcefully kicking the emergency escape hatch open and leaping through the small opening.  The shaft above her was quickly swallowed in darkness, obscuring her vision from the pulley system.  Quickly, she looked down and observed the system by her feet; it looked standard.  Two cables, the cab, and the weight to balance it all out.  Maybe she could… But it would be awfully dangerous.  If she could not stop herself in time by the time she reached the top…

The cab sudden heaved violently beneath her feet.

_No time to stop and contemplate, Seraphim._  An almost frantic female Voice said.  _It's now or never._

_Much agreed._

The elevator cab shook again, much stronger this time, nearly knocking Seraphim's feet right out from under her.  Once again, she unsheathed the scythe blade, took a firm hold of the cable in one hand, and severed it just below her feet.

Wind howled past her ears, whipping her cloak around her as the drop of the weight carried her up, up with frightening speed.  Even with her keen eyesight, it was hard to keep track of the number of floors that flashed before her eyes.  If she continued at this rate, with nothing to stop her, she would never survive the impact when she hit the top…

_Seraphim!_  The child-like Voice squealed.  _Stop!  Now!_

Seraphim looked up, pried one hand away from the cable, and thrust it straight up, concentrating her powers hard.  An incredible pressure filled the elevator shaft, turning the air into gel, and the dropping weight below her slowed drastically in the space of only two seconds before stopping completely, halting Seraphim's ascent only a mere foot from splitting her skull open on the pulley system above her.  She took a moment to breathe a silent sigh of relief before turning her attention to the closed doors before her.  She glared at them, and they blew clean off their hinges.

Swinging herself from the cable and out the door, Seraphim was hardly surprised to see that the ground level of the base was full of zoanoids who were, without a doubt, waiting for her.  

"There she is!"  One bellowed.  "Get her!"

Seraphim could not help but smirk.  "Over my dead boy."

_Get 'em, boys._

The zoanoids hardly had the chance to take three steps towards her before they were being knocked off their feet by a series of heavy, invisible attacks began to take out zoanoids by the dozen, tossing them clean across the room as if they were rag dolls and giving Seraphim a clean break for the exit.  Sheer pandemonium broke out like wildfire amongst the troops as the zoanoids looked desperately for the source of the attack, but only saw other Chronos zoanoids, falling around them with massive gashes on their bodies that nearly tore them in half.  Claw marks that were far too large to be a regular zoanoid, even if the Thunderbolts zoanoids had some sort of cloaking ability on them.

In the midst of the chaos and carriage, Seraphim ran.

The front entrance of the base was gone with only a smoking black hole in its wake, giving her a clean shot for the helicopters that were still waiting for her somewhere in the forest that surrounded the base.  The recent rainfall in the area made the debris on the floor slick under her feet, and when the chaos began to die down in the base behind her the zoanoids were coming back to her senses and hot on her trail once again.  The notion of phantom bodyguards was not going to dissuade them so easily; Balkus was probably pushing them to their limits to make absolutely certain she would not get away…

Seraphim was fast, but not fast enough to leave the super-soldier far enough behind her.  A swift, weasel-looking zoanoid by the name of Talpoor lunged at her from the ranks that were right on her heels,  using a nearby tree as a rebound to throw itself right at her, closing in on her like a bullet before another invisible bodyguard lashed out and knocked it away from her in mid-air.  The zoanoid hit another tree twenty feet away, its spine cracking wetly across the thick trunk.

Wind began to gush hard about her face, pushing against her as she neared the Thunderbolts escape helicopters.  Several of them were already air born, and the last one was hovering a few feet from the ground, anxiously awaiting her return.  Hooking the blade to the belt wrapped around her cloak, Seraphim made a jump for the helicopter, making it rock upon impact as she grabbed onto one of the handrails and held on for dear life.

"She's in!"  Someone from inside the helicopter cab shouted.  "Go!  Before they get the lasers-types out!"  The helicopter rose sharply into the air, leaving the masses of gathering zoanoids shrinking rapidly under her.  The engines whined and roared in her ears, and the wind whipping down at her from the propellers threatened to rip her iron-tight grip right off the hand bars, but Seraphim could not help but smile as her opponents were left in staggering bewilderment below her. 

Hoping that Balkus was watching her through the eyes and minds of his creations, Seraphim pried one hand free from the rail, placed two fingers into her mouth and whistled, loud, shrill and long.  Her battle cry, which was well-known to both fighting sides long before she ever made herself known otherwise.

Adding insult to injury.  Not the most satisfying form of revenge, but it would have to do.

Grinning broadly as the helicopter soared over the trees, Seraphim swung herself into the cab of the flying vehicle, trying to keep her balance as mild air turbulence from the passing storm rocked the helicopter gently.  The man who had been waiting for her return grunted as he slammed the door shut, locking out the roar of the engines above.  He sighed, then turned to Seraphim with his arms crossed.  "Well.  _That _went well."

"Oh, shut up.  I got out, didn't I?"  Seraphim retorted, pulling off the hood of her cloak.  Long, silky strands of raven-black hair spilt down around her shoulders and down to her mid-back, sharply contracted by a stark white streak that ran along her right temple.  Her sharp eyes, eternally alight with an internal spark of mischievousness and craft, were the color of freshly spilt blood that could send a chill down the spine of even the toughest Zoanoid.  The most striking features about the girl was not her hair or her eyes, or even the fact that her ears were pointed; it was the dramatic dark marks slashed along her jaw line, two slender triangles reaching half-way up to her cheekbones, and the crescent-shaped mark on her forehead.  

It was safe to say that Sara was hardly your average sixteen-year-old-girl.

Most people did not speak to Agito Makishima using her words or tone of voice, but the leader of Zeus' Thunderbolts only smirked and sat down on one of the padded helicopter seats.  "Any problems?"

Sara sighed, unzipping her long black cloak and tossing it on the nearest seat.  "Let's just say they were waiting for my arrival, and the red carpet had teeth.  Where's Griselda?"

"In back." Makishima answered.  "She's less than happy with you…fashionable tardiness."

"Hey, everything was going just fine until about ten minutes ago!  Besides, I kept my part of the deal.  No one saw me until the alarms started going off, they don't know my real identity or name, and they still don't know my connection to you or Griselda."

"And what about the Emotions?" asked a female voice from behind.  "Did you keep them hidden as well?"

Sara jumped a good few feet in the air and swung around, staring straight at Shizu Makishima, her eyes still shadowed with anxiety from Sara's late return.  "Oh….uh, yeah…them…"  Excuses ran through her head at a million miles an hour, but she knew that neither of them would believe any of them.  Sara drew herself up indignantly, setting her jaw.  "Well, I needed to do _something_ to get out of there.  They swarmed into the labs like flies."

"Which one?"

"Lucifel.  Just to clear a path."

"Any others?"

"Uh…well…Hellhoug and Edana did help me get out of there…"

Agito raised an eyebrow, silently pressing her to confess.  He knew as well as anyone else that she _hated_ that look, and gave in quickly.  "Alright!  So Aidan was there too!  But they were all Cloaked, I swear, no one saw them…"

"That's not the point, Sara."  Agito countered, his voice still level but slightly more stern.  "We let you come with us this time because you said that you could get in and out of the base without Chronos ever knowing you were there."

"It wasn't my fault!  We didn't _know_ that they _knew_ I was going to be there!  I was all a trap!  Just one big, fat, bloody trap!" Sarah exclaimed, and threw herself down onto the seat her cloak was wadded up on, looking extremely disappointed and frustrated with the whole situation.

Silence hung heavy between the few of them for a long couple of minutes, only the rhythmic thumping of the helicopter blades above the cab.  It was Shizu that took the first tentative step towards easing the tension between them.  "Sara…it wasn't your fault Linger died.  Please don't feel like you need to take responsibility for his death."

"He used to help me with my algebra homework in seventh grade.  I don't remember ever thanking him for it."

"He knew the risks he was taking when we went into that fight.  They all do.  That does not mean that you have to rush into battle feeling like you need to avenge them.  We know you're a good fighter, and that the Emotions will always be there to back you up, but one wrong slip up…and you could share the same fate."  Agito's voice became softer, almost…comforting, in its own respect.  It was not a tone he used just around anyone.  "We don't want that to happen to you."

"Now you know how I feel every time the two of you just disappear into the battle.  Not knowing if either of you will come back…"

Shizu sat next to the distraught girl, putting an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close.  "We'll always come back, Sara.  Just leave the fighting to us.  All you have to worry about is being a kid right now, okay?"

"Enjoy it while you can, kid."  Agito added.  "Believe me, you're not going to get another chance."

Sara smirked slightly, the weariness of the battle finally beginning to wash over her.  "Thanks, Dad."  Between the gentle rocking of the helicopter, the droning thumping of the blades above, and her mother soothingly stroking her hair, she was soon lulled into a drowsing half-slumber.

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**To be Continued…**

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**Author's Second Note:** Thanks a bunch to Jade for her information and advice for this chapter.  It helped a bunch!

**Next Chapter:** Despite the world-wide war against Chronos, David Barker's doing his best to just be a normal teenager.   Most of the time, it's not a problem; star soccer player, active tae kwon do martial artist, energetic drummer for his garage band… But sometimes, an exploding locker is just what he needs to remind him that he's not _completely_ normal, no matter how hard he tries…


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